Aimee’s Watching a Loved One Lose Time article really struck a chord with me. In addition to leaving a comment on her article, I also PM’d her to tell her how much it hit home and why. She encouraged me to share my story here, so…I took her up on it.
My Grandma
My grandma started showing signs of Old Timer’s (a.k.a. Dementia or Alzheimer’s) in 1992. Unlike Aimee did with her grandma, I never lived with mine but I did help with her care as best as I could.
You see, at that time I was still going to college down in Tucson. Gram lived in Phoenix. But I’d drive up either every other weekend or once a month to check on her, take her out to lunch, and make sure she had groceries for the week.
In 1993 Wayne and I moved to Phoenix, but that’s when Gram’s Old Timer’s started getting fierce. She wasn’t washing her clothes or herself properly, she was forgetting to go to the store, and was paying bills she’d already paid.
I had planned to help out a lot more since we’d live so much nearer, but my mom decided to move Gram to Denver with her. They lived together for several years. My mom worked, but had an aid come stay with Gram during the day.
But eventually Gram’s condition worsened and required specialized care. My mom found an assisted living place for Old Timer’s patients, and then, later, a nursing home when Gram was no longer mobile. She died at the ripe old age of 95 in 1999.
My Mom
My mom has always feared degenerating like she’d watched her mom do, and now she is. Worse, it’s happening 12 years sooner than Gram’s started. (Gram was in her late eighties when the Old Timer’s became noticeable.)
My mom is 76. The past couple of years she’s had her share of senior moments, but the past year she’s had increasingly more of them. And very disturbing ones.
She forgets to eat. (Which is very dangerous for her. She weighs all of 80 pounds as it is because last winter she got very sick and lost 15 pounds that she’s never gained back.) She can’t remember how to get around the town she’s lived in for 40 years (and used to know so well). She’s afraid to travel by herself on a plane, even though she’s a well-traveled lady. She can’t read books anymore (which used to be a passion) because she can’t keep track of plots and characters.
She’s aware of her good days and bad days, and that’s what makes it so hard. Gram started out that way too. She’d tell us “This is a good day,” and apologize when her mind was less than on the bad days. (eg. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I’ve asked you this already but I just don’t remember the answer.”)
But what makes it even harder this go around is my mom is a bad patient. She refuses to take the medicines that may increase the quality of her life or to seek help for her depression.
That’s what’s breaking my heart this go around. Watching as she lets herself fade away and refusing any help I try to offer. But that’s for another blog…
Courtney Mroch also writes in Pets and Marriage. For a full listing of her articles click here.
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